


Nocturne

by Nostalgia-in-Starlight (UniverseEndingParadox)



Series: Memento Mori [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged up characters, Alternate Universe, Confident Katsuki Yuuri, Eros Katsuki Yuuri, Established Relationship, M/M, Mafia AU, Mafia Wife!Victor, Mafia Yuuri, Original Characters - Freeform, Possessive Katsuki Yuuri, Protective Katsuki Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-04 15:02:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10993335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniverseEndingParadox/pseuds/Nostalgia-in-Starlight
Summary: It's a charmed life, rife with luxury and glamour and a doting husband who gives him the world on a silver platter. It's also a peculiarly lonely life, being married to the underboss of one of the biggest 'yakuza' in operation. Either way, Viktor wouldn't trade it - or his husband - for the world.Or.A day in the life of Mafia Wife!Viktor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "Summertime Sadness" by Lana del Rey

_i got my red dress on tonight  
dancing in the dark in the pale moonlight_

\---

On a clear day in summer, the streets of Tokyo bustle with activity as busy citizens work diligently to bring another day to a close before starting the commute home. For most, home means a small, single bedroom apartment with a tiny bathroom with just enough space for one person to live comfortably. For many, life outside of work is a solitary affair, but one that the city itself caters to. With the vast array of restaurants offering quick, easy meals for one, dining alone is as common of a sight as the packed subway cars during rush hour. If anyone (or everyone) feels too keenly the peculiar loneliness of living in a city of millions, no one speaks of it.

Twenty-three floors above the bustle the city, in a luxury high rise as beautiful inside as it is out, the atmosphere inside the penthouse is tranquil. Solemn, even. A complete contrast to the fast-pace environment below. The bustle of the city doesn’t exist here, has no place among its expensive decor and gleaming wares. Shadows creep across the recently polished floors as the sun dips behind the towering buildings flanking the penthouse, reaching further into the sprawling spaces within and erasing the glint of sunlight on jeweled surfaces. It’s the kind of place that few can imagine, let alone afford. In a grand room with floor to ceiling windows, a gleaming white grand piano stands, yet untouched by the fading light. At its foot, a large, well-groomed poodle rests, keeping her master company as he plays.

The man sitting at the piano is dressed simply in a robe made from the finest silk. Even in such casual attire, he looks every bit as elegant and stunning as the house he resides in. Sometimes, it would seem, he exists as a living part of the decor. His hands dance and glide across the keys, bringing delicate, weaving music alive in his wake. Though the room grows progressively darker, he does not notice, so lost in the story of the song he’s playing. So lost in the familiarity of the aching loneliness that the music evokes. The bustle of the city does not reach this modern palace, but some days (many days) that peculiar loneliness of the citizens is no stranger within its walls. 

When the last notes of the lilting nocturne begin to fade from the air, the sound of footsteps approach from behind him. Viktor allows his hands a moment to linger at the ivory keys, breathing deeply to center himself back in reality, before turning toward the sound. Beside him, the brown poodle lifts her head to appraise the newcomer before yawning and settling back down. Takeshi Nishigori, the house manager, is standing behind him, dressed sharply in a black button down, not a hair out of place, stance polite and attentive as always.

“Forgive the interruption, Mr. Nikiforov,” Takeshi demurs with a bow, “several packages have arrived for you in the parlor. Would you like me to bring them to your room?”

Viktor considers the man standing before him. Takeshi usually handles processing packages on his own. There’s no reason for him to be asking Viktor where he wants them, especially when Viktor is preoccupied with his piano. There has to be another reason for Takeshi to feel the need to come to him in person. All it takes for Viktor to come to a conclusion is a glance at the clock mounted on the wall. Ah. Takeshi is here to remind him about the gala tonight, but is politely refraining from telling him outright. 

“Yes, take them up to the room, please,” Viktor says, already turning back to the piano. He settles his fingers back onto the keys. There’s enough time for one more song. “Will you start the bath for me as well? I will be there in a few minutes.” 

He feels, rather than sees Takeshi’s short bow. “Of course, sir.” Takeshi’s footsteps have barely started away when piano music is once again filling the room.

~o~

There are six black Armani boxes in varying sizes waiting on the table when Viktor finally makes his way upstairs to the master bedroom, his faithful poodle, Makkachin, close behind. Six boxes _and_ a large bouquet of white roses in a crystal vase. Viktor pauses in the doorway to take it all in, eyes landing immediately on the cream-colored envelope resting against one of the boxes. It’s obvious that Takeshi had done his part to make the whole arrangement pleasing, but that hadn’t been necessary. It could’ve been made up of paper bags for all Viktor cared. He only had eyes for the envelope with his name spelled out in familiar handwriting.

Crossing the room on sure feet, he picks it up with a slight tremor to his hands and fumbles to get it open. Inside is a single nondescript card. It’s from Yuuri. Of course it is. Though the message is short, Viktor takes his time reading it over and over again, just to feel close to his husband if only through words penned by his hand. 

_Vitya,_  
_The days are long when I don’t have you by my side, love.  
It is hard for you as well, I know, and I’m sorry for the distance. I promise to be home soon. Please wait for me._

_I know you will be wonderful in hosting the gala tonight, as you always are. You have done so well in maintaining our alliances and I am so proud of you. I’ve sent these to you for the gala. Wear them so everyone can see that you are mine as I am yours._

_-Y_

Viktor is still clutching the letter in his hands when Takeshi returns from the attached bathroom. “Your bath is ready, sir.” He bows again, then turns to leave. 

“Wait, Takeshi,” Viktor says, and waits for the man to turn before looking up at him. “Please, can you tell me when he will return?” 

Takeshi visibly hesitates. They both know the answer to Viktor’s question. “You know I cannot.” Viktor hadn’t hoped, not really, but he deflates against the table all the same. His eyes burn when he gives a small nod of acknowledgment. He looks down at the letter in his hands and reads the words again. An awkward silence stretches between them. “I will leave you to get ready. You must depart in two hours.” Takeshi says. The bedroom door closes with a soft click behind him. 

Alone, Viktor allows himself another minute of wallowing before forcing himself to set the letter aside. He appraises the gift boxes before him and bends slightly to smell the flowers. Yuuri is counting on him to make this another successful gala for their allies. Regardless of where Yuuri is, where he has been the past two weeks, Viktor won’t let him down. Carefully, he opens each of the boxes to find a brand new outfit chosen for him; a silver-grey suit with a pale blue tie, a shirt, a belt, shoes, and a beautiful watch. Altogether, the outfit must have cost a small fortune. 

While Viktor lays out each piece carefully on the giant king-sized bed, he muses on this life that he’s chosen to live. As an internationally recognized high-fashion model with a long and successful career that started during childhood, he’s used to being surrounded by and being pampered with beautiful, expensive things. But even his fame had not adequately prepared him for this degree of extravagance. Neither had he been prepared for marrying into a major _yakuza_ , the Japanese equivalent of a mafia family. The Katsuki-kai is one of the biggest _yakuza_ in operation and the only one to have international allies. Its yearly income is in the billions. Yuuri Katsuki, his dear husband, is the _wakagashira_ , second in command of the family. The amount of wealth and power he has is near incomprehensible. 

Viktor is kept out of most of the _yakuza’s_ major dealings for safety reasons, but he’s slowly become the face of the family, the more public half of the _wakagashira_ , in charge of social functions and maintaining good relations with their allies. Because Yuuri is often away on “business trips” to classified locations where Viktor is rarely allowed to follow, it’s a strangely lonely life. But, Viktor reflects, it’s also a good life. Makkachin is a testament to that. She had been a gift from Yuuri, given to him so that he would have a companion whenever Yuuri wasn’t around. Despite the fact that he’s often taken for a mere “trophy wife” by others, his husband is doting beyond measure, showers him with gifts (that he’s just vain enough to want), and is always keen to make sure Viktor knows without doubt that he is loved.

~o~

Viktor spends entirely too long indulging himself in the beautiful, marbled bathroom. Well aware of his tendencies, Takeshi had prepared the bath with scented oils and laid out his best razor and creams. Though his body is relatively hairless (especially by caucasian standards), Viktor has long since been in the habit of preferring his skin to be perfectly clean-shaven. He takes his time running the razor over his legs and the soft place between them, trailing fingers after the blade to make sure no hair is left in place. His skin feels as supple and smooth as the finest silk when he finishes. It’s exactly how he likes it. It’s how Yuuri likes it, too.

After that, he’s quick in getting himself ready for the night’s event. Wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe, he dries and styles his hair to fall perfectly over one eye. Then he pads out to the bedroom to put on the outfit Yuuri had picked for him, piece by expensive piece, before finishing with small dabs of Yuuri’s favorite cologne. Finally, Viktor stands in front of the full length mirror to appraise his appearance. He looks good. Handsome. Pretty, like one of those roses in the vase.

The suit that Yuuri had chosen had been custom embroidered on the back with the family emblem in barely-there silver thread. It’s tailored to perfection and the smoky color compliments Viktor’s unique silver-grey hair while the blue tie matches his eyes. The watch on his wrist, gleaming and filled with crystals and engraved with the emblem, is undoubtedly worth more than many people’s annual salary. It’s obvious that Yuuri knows just how to dress him to impress. Lips curling softly, Viktor smiles to himself. To anyone who knows them as a couple (everyone in attendance of the event should), it’s also obvious that Yuuri had chosen the outfit to cater to his own carefully controlled possessiveness. No one will be able to keep their eyes off Viktor tonight. But no one will be allowed to have him as Yuuri does. Sliding his wedding ring onto his finger, Viktor’s smile grows broader. He is more than perfectly okay with that.

~o~

Their shiny black Rolls-Royce is waiting by the time Takeshi and Makkachin accompany Viktor downstairs to the parking garage. He’s greeted by his personal bodyguard, Sasha, and promptly ushered into the back seat of the car once he’s said goodbye to Makkachin. It’s a relatively short ride to Haneda Airport and Viktor is once again ushered along to a small luxury charter plane idling on the tarmac. Sasha is the first aboard. Only after he’s cleared the aircraft is Viktor allowed to follow.

The interior of the plane is nondescript in its adherence to the normal decor of this type of charters. Its beiges and browns and golds are only there to provide the perceived comfort of luxury to those who are constantly surrounded by it. There’s a single stewardess aboard the flight. She shows Viktor to his seat and brings him a drink while they wait for the pilot to finish his pre-flight checklist. Viktor thanks her politely before dismissing her with a shake of his head when asked if there’s anything more she could do for him. He watches the proceedings of the various workers out on the tarmac with barely seeing eyes, thoughts already on the gala.

Though the gala is mostly for show - a way to demonstrate their appreciation and good graces towards their allies - there are always those who come for specific agendas. Despite the fact that the event is by-invitation only, there will be still be people seeking the opportunity to speak with higher ranked members of the family. Whether they’re there to ask for favors from the family or to demand certain deals, they will all be coming on to Viktor since Yuuri won’t be there. He’s not particularly fond of these interactions. It’s not _what_ they ask for. It’s _how_ they ask. Especially when Yuuri isn’t around. _Only_ when Yuuri isn’t around. 

More often than not, for whatever reason, those who feel the need to speak to the _wakagashira_ during such functions operate under the conception that they can gain favor from an absent Yuuri through ‘sweet talking’ Viktor. This somehow always translates to one too many overly bold business men getting handsy with him. Viktor literally shudders to think about the number of times he’s had unwelcomed hands stroking his arms, his back. Or the number of times he’s had sleazy compliments whispered in his ear. He knows how others tend to objectify him, he’s made a whole career of being objectified by others. But it’s one thing to know and willfully ignore it and another to have to bear it as an ever gracious host. Viktor shudders again and shakes himself out of his thoughts. 

“Hey,” Sasha says from the seat beside him, “you’ll be alright.” 

Ah. Something must’ve shown on his face. Viktor turns to his longtime bodyguard (and friend when he can admit it). The man is built like a tank; tall, broad, the physique of a weightlifter. Anyone would feel safe in his presence, especially those who have his loyalty. He’d been handpicked by Yuuri from an elite Russian security service to be a personal protection detail for Viktor. His presence in their lives is now a constant and Viktor has long since gotten used to having him by his side.  
“I can keep them away from you, if you want.”

It’s a testament to how seriously Sasha takes his job that he knows exactly what’s troubling Viktor. Forcing his hands to unclench from their grip on the leather armrests, Viktor settles back into his seat with a wry smile. He levels a grateful look at Sasha for the sentiment, then looks down to toy with the ring on his finger. “They’re a part of my duty to the family, unfortunately.”

Sasha considers him. “I can keep the handsy ones away, then.”

“Is that in your job description?” 

There’s a pause before Sasha answers. It’s long enough for Viktor to look up again and catch the equal mix of seriousness and teasing in his eyes. “Only when Mr. Katsuki isn’t around.” In a way, the words are exactly what Viktor had wanted to hear, what he’d needed for reassurance even though it’s a simultaneous reminder of what he’s missing. Viktor feels his face heating at the implication and goes back to toying with his wedding ring, letting himself be mesmerized by the light as it catches on the polished gold.

~o~

It’s a short flight to Kansai Airport, but by the time they arrive at the Sky Lobby in St. Regis Osaka, many of their guests have already congregated in the grand ballroom. Most have already started dining on the beautifully arranged buffet displays of gourmet foods available and are well into socializing with other attendees. Viktor takes a moment in the doorway to appreciate the magnificent chandeliers hanging from the vaulted ceilings and the overall grandeur of the space that he had chosen. Music from a live quartet plays softly in the background while expensive cocktails from the overstocked bar at the center of the room found their way to the bejeweled hands of various patrons. It’s already obvious that the event is a success.

As the host, Viktor will have to do his part in socializing with all of the guests and making sure everyone is feeling welcomed and in good graces with the Katsuki-kai. In thirty minutes time, he will have to deliver a short speech to the guests, thanking them for their attendance and to ensure continued support from their most important allies. The night will be long and Viktor will have to be perfect in his interactions and in the way he presents himself. It’s all things that he’s learned to do over the years, all things he takes pride in doing for his family. If he does have to socialize with those he would rather not, then he will also do it with dignity. This is his life.

Sasha is one step behind him when Viktor takes a breath to center himself before starting his foray into the crowded room. He’s barely five steps in when he’s stopped by a familiar grip on his arm. Whirling around, he finds himself face to face with his longtime best friend, Christophe Giacometti, the heir to one of their strongest international ally families. 

“Well if it isn’t the Ice Prince himself,” Chris says fondly, pulling Viktor into a hug. Viktor grins at the nickname and hugs him back, overjoyed to see a familiar and welcoming face. It’s an inside joke between them, an homage to one of Viktor’s magazine spreads. He’d been dressed to the nines in a series of garments designed to look like something from a modern fairytale set in an ‘ice castle’. It had been one of those extravagant, high-fashion productions that made little sense logically but was so stunning in its beauty that no one would ever care. 

“Will I ever convince you to stop calling me that?” As is the norm with them, Viktor pretends to be affronted by the nickname. 

“Never!” 

Viktor rolls his eyes, but smiles some more at his friend. They haven’t seen each other in a while, but Chris looks better than ever. He, too, is dressed in a nice suit tailored to his form and there’s a healthy glow to his skin. It’s good to see that he is doing well. In return, his best friend looks him up and down with a smirk, obviously delighted by what he sees. “You look good, Vee. As if you could ever look bad.” He tuts approvingly. “Let me guess, Yuuri chose your outfit?” 

Despite himself, Viktor feels his face heat again. He shoves playfully at Chris. “How’d you guess?”

Chris levels him with an exaggerated leer. “He always makes sure to highlight _all_ your best assets. As your best friend, I must tell you, Vee, you look good enough to eat.” 

“Too bad my husband isn’t here, then,” Viktor quips. He’d meant for it to sound more lighthearted, but Chris sees right through him. The blond’s demeanor changes immediately to something less playful. 

“How have you been?” Chris asks, voice quiet and serious. His hazel eyes search Viktor’s face for an answer before Viktor has the chance to speak. Whether he finds it or not doesn’t matter. This isn’t the right occasion for this kind of conversation. 

Viktor waves away Chris’s concern with a brave smile. “You know how it is, Chris. I’m fine.” It’s obvious Chris doesn’t fully believe him, not really, but both of them understand all too well the nature of this life. 

“If you need anyone to talk to --” Chris starts.

“I can call you. I know.” Knowing that this is as far as this conversation could go for the moment, Chris changes the topic to something less demanding. They spend a few minutes making small talk before Viktor is being pulled away by different voices vying for his attention. The brief amount of time where he’d gone unnoticed was over. The rest of the night will have to be spent socializing with both familiar and unfamiliar faces, and none of them will be as welcoming of a sight as Chris. His best friend squeezes his hand for good luck before disappearing back into the crowd.

~o~

By the time most of the food has disappeared from the buffet tables, Viktor’s face is aching from forcing a bright smile for every guest. Though outwardly immaculate, still, he can feel his resolve starting to unravel. For the most part, all of the interpersonal interactions tonight have been pleasant, but there had been a few overly bold men and women who’d tried to cop a feel or two in between trying to seek the protection of the Katsuki-kai. How anyone could think that feeling him up would win them bonus points, Viktor didn’t know. They're idiots, the lot of them. He’s tired of it, though, and more than ready to slip away somewhere for a short break. The party is far from over. The drinks have just now started flowing freely. The floor just now starting to be rearranged into a dance floor.

Of course, it’s when he’s just trying to slip away that another handsy business man finds him. In retrospect, he really should’ve taken Sasha up on his offer. Viktor has to force himself to stand his ground when the large older man - who has to be at least 60 (at least twice his age) - gets too close for comfort. He’s got a hand on Viktor’s arm, the other around a glass of wine. 

“Ah, Viktor, you are as breathtaking as they say,” he slurs, breath stinking of alcohol and cigarettes. Viktor cringes inwardly, but compels himself to be pleasant. His skin is crawling from the way the man is absently stroking the sleeve of his suit, though, so he takes a step back. 

“Is there something I can do for you, Mr --?” 

“Baron.”

“Mr. Baron.”

Mr. Baron trails his gaze up and down Viktor’s form before answering, doing nothing to hide his obvious interest. He licks his lips, and Viktor shudders at the image. Briefly, he considers making a run for it or calling for Sasha, who’s sitting at the bar, watching and waiting. “Oh, I can think of _several_ things you can do for me, Viktor,” Mr. Baron divulges, eyes heavy with desire. His hand finds its way to Viktor’s arm again, holding tight, grip stronger than he appears capable of. He then makes the fatal mistake of pulling him closer with one hand while snaking an arm around Viktor's waist. This close, Viktor becomes all too aware of the man's unappealing bulk and repulsive smell. It’s absolutely revolting. Viktor opens his mouth to voice an objection (to hell with pleasantries), but before he can say anything, something has Mr. Baron quickly backing off. 

Brows furrowing in confusion, Viktor skims his eyes over the old man’s face, wondering and worried about what he’d done to evoke such a response. A mere moment later, he becomes aware of the sudden stillness of the room around them. Even the quartet has stopped playing. For a moment, he’s terrified that something bad has happened. Then, the whispers start. A single word reaches Viktor’s ears and he spins around, heart in his throat, so fast it’s a miracle he doesn’t lose his balance. 

_Wakagashira_.

Yuuri.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied, there's going to be 3 chapters.  
> Thank you all for your support.

_i got my bad baby by my heavenly side  
know if i go i’ll die happy tonight_

\---

They say there’s often a calm before the storm; a time of eerie quiet before some violent tempest wreaks havoc on unsuspecting lives. Though Viktor can’t say he’s personally experienced the phenomenon, he thinks it may be similar to the current atmosphere within the ball room. As if everyone is suddenly following the unspoken command of a voice no one can hear, the crowd parts to form a clear path from one point to another. From where Yuuri Katsuki, _wakagashira_ , stands with an effortless air of command to where Viktor is simultaneously shaking and frozen, disbelieving and overjoyed.

When Yuuri starts forward, flanked on one side by his right hand man, Phichit Chulanont, and the other by his personal bodyguard, Viktor feels his knees go weak. Dressed in a sharp matte black suit with a faint silver emblem on the breast pocket, hair pushed artfully back out of his face, Yuuri looks the living embodiment of a _yakuza_ lord. There’s a glacial intensity to Yuuri’s eyes, and the way his body is moving speaks of barely concealed threat. Anyone with an ounce of common sense would know to stay out of his way in this mood. But _it’s Yuuri_ and Viktor hasn’t seen him in weeks. It takes everything in him to _not_ make a fool of himself and disgrace the family by running to Yuuri like an over eager child. Instead, he, along with the rest of the room, waits with baited breath to see what will happen next. 

Every person that Yuuri saunters past in his slow prowl towards Viktor bows deeply with a softly spoken salute. He doesn’t stop to acknowledge any of them, doesn’t even spare them a glance. All of his focus is on the person _behind_ Viktor. It feels like an eternity before Yuuri is finally within reach. Viktor is only aware of the breath he’s been holding when Yuuri flicks a look at him, silently requesting him to turn and face Mr. Baron together. Viktor does so willingly, ever faithful and attuned to his husband. Two steps more, and Yuuri stops, coming to a standstill with Viktor by his side. When he wraps a protective, possessive arm around Viktor’s waist, Viktor exhales at last. His lungs ache from the strain.

It’s been so long since he’s been this physically close to his husband. There’s nothing Viktor wants to do more than wrap himself around Yuuri and never let go. Nothing he wants more than for Yuuri to pull him in and hold him close, just for a while. “Yuuri,” he breathes under his breath, unable to control that much. His body tenses involuntarily with the want, and Yuuri tightens the arm around him in warning. It’s a subtle gesture, but Viktor dips his head slightly, chastised. _He knows._ He knows he still has to play the part. He knows he can. When he looks up barely two seconds later, it’s with flawless composure, gaze cool and steady when it focuses on Mr. Baron.  


The drunken old man may have attempted to slip away unnoticed at some point. Anybody with a sense of self-preservation would’ve tried. But then, anyone stupid enough to openly grope the _wakagashira’s_ husband probably didn’t have a good sense of self-preservation to begin with. Though Viktor shudders again at the remembered sensation of the man’s body pressed to his own, his lips twitch in wry satisfaction when he sees Sasha holding fast to the man, preventing his escape. Set against Sasha’s impressive, imposing physique, Mr. Baron appears almost comical in his disheveled state. His face is red with alcohol and sweaty from apprehension. 

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Yuuri’s voice is low, quiet in its intensity. There’s no hiding the implied threat in his words. Viktor winces internally at the tone and the room seems to grow cold. 

Mr. Baron audibly gulps, eyes shifting wildly back and forth between Yuuri and Viktor. His mouth opens and closes in an attempt to speak, but nothing comes forth. Had he been in a more forgiving and chivalrous mood, Viktor might’ve felt bad for him. But he isn’t. It’s been a long night. 

What happens next is a blur. One moment, Mr. Baron is lurching forward toward them, eyes manic, apology in his throat, and the next, his knees are hitting the polished floor with a heavy thud when Sasha moves to intercept his movement. The wine glass that he’d been holding flies out of his hand and shatters. People gasp. “Forgive me, _wakagashira_ , I --” Mr. Baron splutters, hands pressed to the floor in a bow. 

“You had the audacity to harass my husband,” Yuuri intones over the man’s plea. “Should I forgive you for your stupidity or for your inability to control yourself?” His words send a chill down Viktor’s spine. It’s rare that he truly gets to see this side of Yuuri; see this man with the glacial eyes and tightly leashed fury. Despite having been married to the family for years now, he can probably count on two hands the number of times he’s witnessed it. 

“I...I was...only…” Mr. Barron stammers some more. “I made a mistake. I did not mean to touch. I only wish to serve the Katsuki-kai, sir. I meant no harm.” Now Viktor feels bad for him. The man is only digging himself a deeper hole with his words. Stupid.

Yuuri pretends to consider his words, then sighs as if he hasn’t already made his decision. No one, except for Mr. Baron who dares to hope, is fooled by his suddenly more relaxed demeanor. His hand strokes up and down Viktor’s back once before resettling around his waist. “Phichit,” he says, and his right hand man snaps to attention at once. “See to it that this man’s protection contracts are withdrawn and that his business ties to the family are severed. His debt will be collected by the end of the year.” Phichit nods.

“No!” Mr. Baron protests, shuffling forward on his knees to grovel. “No! Please, Mr. Katsuki.” When Yuuri continues to ignore him, he changes tactics. “Your husband is a model!" he cries, accusing, as if he has any right to condone Viktor's career choice, to judge. "He was made to be looked at! He can't go around looking like that and not expect ---- It’s not fair! I’m not the only one. I _can’t_ be. Others have done the same thing!” What a stupid, stupid man, Viktor laments wearily when a gasp is heard from the onlookers. Yuuri’s whole body is tight with tension beside him.

“Is that so, Vitya?” he asks quietly, tilting his head slightly upwards to meet Viktor’s gaze. His expression is unreadable. Viktor can only dip his head in confirmation, suddenly feeling ashamed. His face heats when his eyes suddenly burn with emotion. He knows Mr. Baron is wrong. Regardless of his career, no one has the right to treat him as an object of desire. But he’s more tired and strung out than he’d thought. When Yuuri’s arm tightens around him this time, it’s apology and reassurance rolled into one. “I’m sorry, love.” The words are spoken so softly that Viktor barely hears them. 

Before Viktor can respond, Yuuri is addressing Phichit. “Phichit, have this man's name tarnished. I want to see his businesses crumble." Phichit nods again in acknowledgement, face hard. He then directs his words to Sasha. "Remove him from the premises, Sasha.”

“Yes, sir.”

“From now on, you have orders to do the same to any who dares to touch my husband. The consequences of their actions will not be judged lightly.” Sasha acknowledges all this with a curt nod before proceeding to do as Yuuri had asked. Mr. Baron doesn’t go quietly, but Sasha easily drags him out of the banquet hall. And just like that, the crowd disperses back to the way it had been. The string quartet resumes its playing and it’s not long before the party is once again in full swing. It would seem strange, how fast everything goes back to normal, but these are people used to dealing with the _yakuza_. All of them are well acquainted with the nature of this life.

~o~

Yuuri takes him up to the Sky Lobby, just the two of them plus his bodyguard, Kaito. The party isn’t quite over, not yet, but both of them have earned a brief respite. If Viktor holds onto his hand too tightly the whole way up, Yuuri doesn’t comment. Viktor follows quietly, heart hammering, as Yuuri leads the way across another lavishly decorated room and out onto the terrace overlooking the city. Kaito stays inside to guard the door. For the first time in weeks, they’re finally alone together.

The door has yet to fully close behind them when Viktor is launching himself at his husband. “Yuuri!” he cries, overjoyed, heart soaring with renewed vigor. He loops his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders and buries his face into the crook of Yuuri’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent. There’s not an ounce of hesitation or moment of pause when Yuuri wraps firm arms around him in return. “I’ve missed you so much.”

A kiss is brushed over his hair, warm and real. “I’ve missed you too, Vitya,” Yuuri says softly. “More than I can say.” Viktor closes his eyes against the sudden tears he will not allow himself to cry. He refuses to ruin the moment in that way. Instead, he presses impossibly closer to Yuuri, breathes, and holds on tight. They stay like that for a long moment, locked in a firm embrace, neither of them feeling the need to say anything else. Overhead, the moon shines brighter than the lights of the city.

It’s altogether too soon when Yuuri starts to pull back. Viktor makes a sound of protest, but allows the movement. He leans back to get a good look at Yuuri’s face, noting with delight the warmth that has replaced the glacial look in Yuuri’s eyes. This is his husband. The love of his life. Viktor can’t help it. He breaks out into a smile more genuine and heartfelt than any he’d given tonight. Within seconds, Yuuri is smiling back. There’s a gentle hand on his face, a protective arm around his back, and then they’re kissing - lips coming together with all the fervor of too much time spent apart, breaths heavy and hot with long tempered desire. 

Viktor moans high and needy into Yuuri’s mouth, hands clutching tight at the lapels of Yuuri’s very expensive suit jacket. He’s dizzy, high on euphoria, knees weak. He tries to break away for a moment to catch his breath, but Yuuri captures his lips again before he’d so much as inhaled. “Yuu--!” There’s nothing he can do but hold on and take it. 

When Yuuri _does_ break the kiss, Viktor’s lips are tingling. Trembling, he lays his forehead against Yuuri’s shoulder, panting. Before he can catch his breath to say anything, though, Yuuri’s lips are at his neck, mouthing at the soft underside of his jaw, then biting into it to suck a hickey into the skin. Viktor jolts at the sensation, his breathless pants rising into a keen. He can feel himself starting to get hard from the onslaught.

“Yuuri!” he gasps, but Yuuri silences him another hard kiss.

“You’re mine, Vitya. Mine,” Yuuri growls, low and possessive. The words go straight to Viktor’s groin. 

He moans again, arching his back slightly for more contact. “I’m yours, Yuuri. I’m yours. Please, touch me.” Yuuri kisses him again, but then backs away, wearing a satisfied smirk and a pleased glint in his eyes. His eyes rake over Viktor’s now rumpled form, dark with desire, while Viktor tries to catch his breath. When he’s got some semblance of control back, Viktor glides over to where Yuuri is leaning against the railing, trying to appear unaffected as Viktor drapes his arms around him again. “Please,” he purrs into Yuuri’s ear, quiet and seductive. 

“We have a gala to get back to, Vitya,” Yuuri says wryly. His hand runs over Viktor’s back, tracing the emblem embroidered into the suit. Viktor groans in frustration and drops his head to Yuuri’s shoulder once more. 

“Do we have to?”

Yuuri kisses his temple and Viktor can feel his smile where it imprints on his skin. “We must. You’ve done so well, it’d be a shame not to see everything through.”

“I’d much rather just spend the night with you,” Viktor says sincerely. 

“We have the whole night after,” Yuuri promises.

For a brief, fantastic moment, Viktor is elated beyond comprehension. But then, the full implication of Yuuri’s words sink in. “ _Just_ the night?” Yuuri’s silence is all the answer he needs. He wilts against his husband and closes his eyes. _Don’t go,_ he wants to say, _stay with me_ , but he can’t. He won’t. Viktor’s long since decided that no matter what, he won’t give up this life. That means he can’t act the clingy husband.

Yuuri knows, though. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, carding soothing fingers through Viktor’s hair. “I promise I’ll be home soon. There’s just a lot of...business...that require my presence right now.”

Viktor sighs. “I know. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I always am,” Yuuri assures. He draws away again, this time to look over the railings at the city below. Viktor joins him, eyes hazy. They’re silent for a little while, listening to the sounds of the city below, to each other breathe. There’s not much time left for them to stall, but both loathe to let it go. Here, with the moonlight bathing over their expensive attire and catching on their sparkling accessories, the world is peaceful in the way that they both long for. 

When they turn to head back inside, Yuuri takes his hand and draws him in for one more kiss, this one soft and tender. “Vitya,” he smiles, reaching a hand up to smooth over Viktor’s hair and chase away the slight wrinkles in his outfit, “you are breathtaking tonight.” Viktor huffs under his breath, always exceptionally pleased when he wears Yuuri’s chosen outfits well. He leans in for another kiss, just a gentle press of lips.

“I love you.”

Yuuri intertwines their fingers, smiling even more, thumb stroking once over Viktor’s wedding ring. “Not as much as I love you.”

~o~

In the elevator down to the ballroom, Viktor watches as Yuuri dons an invisible mask over his character. His posture changes to something more commanding, stalwart, and the warmth in his eyes gets replaced by the cool intensity he maintains in the face of his subordinates. Gone is the face of the loving, doting, passionate husband that he’d been on the Sky Terrace, hidden behind the persona of the _wakagashira_. Viktor, too, composes himself back into the immaculate, elegant, charismatic husband worthy of being on the arm of Katsuki-kai’s second in command. Both of their transformations are effortless. By the time they re-enter the ballroom, hand in hand and flanked on both sides by their bodyguards, they’re the perfect embodiment of a powerful _yakuza_ couple.

Though the party doesn’t stop for Yuuri’s presence this time, Viktor feels the wary gazes of many patrons as they enter the room. They’re led to a large, curtained corner booth by Phichit. Many people are already seated at the table. Viktor recognizes a few of them as similarly ranked individuals in their ally families. It becomes immediately clear to him that Yuuri being here tonight had been prearranged for some sort of meeting. A meeting that he will not be a part of. 

The men and women at the table all stand and bow when they approach. Greetings and pleasantries are exchanged between both parties before Viktor is subtly dismissed by a single look from Yuuri. Viktor goes without complaint, well accustomed to such proceedings. He spends the remainder of the party making sure food and drink continue to be readily available while socializing and dancing with the guests. If his eyes stray too often to the corner table, unable to look away from his husband for too long, that’s for him to know. Yuuri must understand - if the heavy gaze Viktor feels at his back is any indication. 

Near the end of the night, when most of the guests have retreated to their hotel rooms or waiting cars, Chris sidles up to Viktor with a knowing smirk. Viktor pauses in bidding the remainder guests goodnight to give his best friend a curious look. “Message for you, my prince,” Chris sing songs with an exaggerated bow as he holds up a small envelope. Rolling his eyes, Viktor takes it, not sure what to expect. There’s a keycard inside along with a note written on a slip of paper. 

_Vitya,_  
_The Royal Suite is ours for the night. Go. I will be there shortly._  
_-Y_

_PS: Leave your suit on. I didn’t have the pleasure of putting it on you. Allow me to take it off._

Face flaming, Viktor looks toward the corner table where Yuuri is still conversing with his partners. Even from this distance, Viktor could swear he sees a hint of smugness to Yuuri’s carefully controlled expression. The keycard feels heavier in his hand. 

“Are you blushing?” Chris asks, peering closely at his face, delighted. Viktor startles. He tucks the note and key inside his pocket and shakes his head. 

“Of course not. But it’s time to go. It was wonderful seeing you again, Chris.” He feels slightly bad for dismissing his friend so readily. Chris being Chris, though, completely understands. Viktor allows himself to be pulled into a short embrace, hugging Chris back with a small grin. 

“So...think you’ll be able to walk tomorrow?” Chris whispers, conspiring, as he’s pulling away. Pretending to be scandalized (even as his face flames anew), Viktor shoves at him. Hard.

“That’s none of your business,” he huffs, but can’t quite keep the excitement out of his tone. “I’ll take pictures of the suite for you, if you want.” 

Chris shakes his head fondly. “You do that, Vee. I’ll see you when I see you?” 

“Have a goodnight, Chris,” Viktor says. This time it’s him who initiates the hug. 

Of course, Chris gets in the last word as he leaves. “I’m sure it won’t be as good as yours,” he tosses over his shoulder. He’s probably right. Feeling the heat of Yuuri’s gaze on him again, Viktor looks up to meet his husband’s eyes across the room. The smirk that Yuuri sends his way is pure sin and Viktor is quick in making sure he’s bid goodnight to all the remaining guests before slipping away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing anything M rated. Please bear with me.

_kiss me hard before you go  
_

\---

The Royal Suite at St. Regis Osaka is a sprawling, opulent getaway with a lavishly furnished dining room, living room, and master-bedroom. In all honesty, ‘penthouse’ would’ve been a more suitable name for it. Sasha makes a point of sweeping the entire place before allowing Viktor the freedom to roam the place himself. It’s not quite as beautifully lavish as their penthouse in Tokyo, nor does it have the familiarity of a home, but it’s everything on par with their usual stays. He takes a few photos on his phone for Chris, then sets it down for the night. Sometime between him taking a curious peek at the mini-bar and peering out the large windows in the living room to admire the lights on streets below, Sasha disappears into an adjoining suite for the night. Viktor notes his absence, but doesn’t give it any further thought as he circles the mini-bar again. 

There’s a bottle of expensive champagne chilling on the marble counter alongside a set of crystal champagne flutes. It’s unsurprising that it’s Yuuri’s favorite brand. Viktor doesn’t hesitate in opening the bottle and pouring two glasses. He catches sight of himself in the window, blue eyes sparkling, skin flawless and pale like fine porcelain, and shivers with anticipation. Good enough to eat, Chris had said. It’s been a long time coming.

True to his word, Yuuri doesn’t take long to show up. A faint beep from the lock on the suite’s main door announces his presence. Viktor doesn’t move from his place at the bar, curious to see how the night will start, what pace Yuuri will set. The marble countertop is cool beneath his palms when he leans on it and he’s suddenly hyper aware of the details around him. Yuuri’s feet hardly make a sound as he moves through the suite, the thick carpet muting his footsteps. What feels simultaneously like an eternity and a single heartbeat later, there’s a warm presence at his back and familiar arms circling him from behind. That’s all it takes for all the night’s tension to bleed out of Viktor’s body. He lets himself relax against his husband for a moment, then turns around in the circle of his arms to face him. Yuuri’s chestnut eyes are bright with warmth, his expression open and adoring. It’s the Yuuri that only Viktor is allowed to see, the Yuuri that Viktor fell in love with and continues to fall in love with all the time. His heart flutters in his chest and his face lights in a smile, beatific, happy. “Yuuri.”

“Love,” Yuuri says, returning his smile. When he reaches to pull Viktor in for a kiss, Viktor meets him halfway. The soft press of their lips together feels like coming home. It’s as much a heartfelt hello as it is a promise of what’s to come. There’s no party to return to later. The night, no matter how long or short or how it plays out, is theirs. Viktor giggles softly under his breath when they part, nuzzling his nose against Yuuri’s while their foreheads press together, beaming unabashedly. He’s just...so happy to be here with Yuuri. So happy that he didn’t have to spend the night alone as he’d planned for. 

Laughing at his antics, Yuuri squeezes him tight and captures his lips again. They both sigh contently when they part. Like he did back on the Sky Terrace, Viktor loops his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders and buries his face into the juncture of Yuuri’s neck. “You have no idea what it’s like, Vitya,” Yuuri whispers into his ear, hands slipping underneath Viktor’s suit jacket to smooth over his neatly pressed shirt, “to get to come home to you.” Viktor’s heart constricts at the words. He’s so hopelessly in love he can’t breathe.

“I’m yours,” he professes softly, mouthing the words into Yuuri’s skin. “I’m yours.”

Yuuri brushes a kiss over his forehead, hands tight at his waist. “Only mine,” he affirms, smug. Viktor’s lips quirk at the words, besotted. “I’m so proud of you. You did wonderfully tonight.” How can there be any question to why he’s so in love with this man? He can’t keep the joyous expression off his face even when Yuuri finally steps back to turn his attention to the champagne waiting on the counter. Picking up one of the crystal flutes, Yuuri pauses a second to admire the color of the drink before taking a tentative sip. Viktor watches him, smiling more when he makes a pleased expression at the flavor. He picks up his own drink and sips carefully. It’s light and airy, bubbling and delicious as expected. Yuuri is watching him, too, and when their eyes meet once more, there’s a new spark to Yuuri’s gaze.

His movements are slow, deliberate, when he reaches out to take Viktor’s hand. Lifting it, he presses a kiss to the ring on Viktor’s finger, breath warm against gold. “Come, Vitya,” he beckons, eyes dark with promise and it’s all Viktor can do to not spontaneously combust right there. Yuuri pulls him along by the hand, confident in his steps even as he navigates the unfamiliar layout of the suite, sipping his drink all the while. Helpless to do anything else, Viktor trails after him, heart racing and body already beginning to flush hot under his clothes. His own flute of champagne is completely forgotten, left behind to twinkle softly in ambient light. 

~o~

They find themselves in a decadent master bedroom complete with a king sized canopy bed, indigo accent wall, and a plush lounge chair by the floor to ceiling windows taking up the entire expanse of one wall. It’s glamorous, of course, but also charming enough for Viktor to want the motifs for the next home they buy. Yuuri lets go of his hand at the doorway and pads straight to the chair, removing his suit jacket and settling into the generously cushioned seat before Viktor has finished admiring the scene. 

“Leave your shoes by the door, love,” Yuuri directs, taking another sip of his champagne. When Viktor does so without question, toeing off his shoes carefully, he follows with another soft request. “Come here.” There’s a smirk on Yuuri’s face when Viktor looks at him, familiar and enticing. His eyes glint playfully but darken with desire when Viktor slinks forward, coy and sensual. Two can play at this game. 

When Viktor gets within arms reach, though, Yuuri surprises him by reaching up and grabbing a hold of his tie. Using it as leverage, he yanks Viktor down to straddle his lap, knees on either side of his hips. Yuuri’s eyes dance with laughter as Viktor yelps and throws his arms out to prevent a faceplant into Yuuri’s shoulder. Viktor pouts at him. “I was trying to be seductive.”

Yuuri chuckles fondly. Eyes twinkling, he cups Viktor’s face in his hand and kisses him, gentle and affectionate. “You don’t have to seduce me.” His lips taste of bittersweet champagne. Viktor huffs and pouts some more, but lets Yuuri kiss him until his lips are tingling with sensation. Then he pulls back, takes the glass out of Yuuri’s hand, movement slow, and makes a show of drinking the last bit, tilting his head back to expose the long lines of his throat. When he goes to set the glass aside, he looks Yuuri in the eye and licks the residual flavor from his lips. 

“But Yuuri,” Viktor purrs, draping his arms over Yuuri’s shoulders as he leans in, wide-eyed and picture perfect. “Don’t you want me?” He has the satisfaction of seeing Yuuri’s eyes dilate with arousal and hearing the sound of a muttered curse before he’s getting exactly what he wants.

All at once, it’s as if Yuuri’s careful control goes flying out the window into the city below. There’s a demanding hand at his nape and a possessive hand on his ass when Yuuri drags him into a hard, dominating kiss. Viktor moans at the sudden intensity and kisses back with equal enthusiasm. Their playfulness from before is gone, replaced by the burning, desperate desire setting Viktor’s whole body aflame. He’s fully hard and already leaking by the time Yuuri shoves his suit jacket off his shoulders and forces him impossibly closer to grind their hips together. They both gasp.

“Oh god, Yuu--!” Viktor pants in between kisses, but Yuuri cuts him off by reeling him into another while his fingers work to get the blue tie off. When that, too, has been discarded to the side, Yuuri gets to work on his shirt. 

“You were exquisite tonight, Vitya,” Yuuri breathes into his mouth. Viktor moans again at the words. “Fuck, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. No one could. But you’re mine, Viktor. Isn’t that right? No one can have you like I do. You saw what happens when they try.”

Viktor groans, breathless, and grinds down again. “Yuuri, please!” 

He’s woefully unprepared when Yuuri’s abruptly stands with him in his arms, hauling his legs around his waist. Viktor lets out an undignified squeal and hangs on, arms tight around Yuuri's neck. Then he’s flat on his back on the bed, skin too hot against cool sheets. Yuuri climbs onto the bed after him, fingers resuming their work in getting the shirt off and mouth finding Viktor’s again in another searing kiss. Viktor whimpers and clutches at Yuuri’s arms.

“Shhh,” Yuuri soothes, trailing kisses down Viktor’s chest as he works the shirt off, making sure to lick over all the places that make Viktor’s breath hitch. “I’ve got you.” He undoes Viktor’s belt next, then moves to pull off his pants. “Look at you, love. You’re so gorgeous,” Yuuri groans when they come off. He bends to suck a bruise into the soft skin at Viktor’s hip. Viktor keens loudly at both the praise and the sensation, body arching, desperate for more contact. 

“Yuuri!”

Yuuri moves so that he’s hovering over him and peppers kisses all over his face until he finds Viktor’s mouth again. “Tell me what you want, Vitya.” His hands move to tease at the bottom of Viktor’s seamless briefs, peeling them off with tantalizing slowness before nudging Viktor’s legs apart and settling between them.“What do you need, love? Tell me.”

Panting, flushed from head to toe, Viktor tries to reply. The answer should’ve come easy. The words are at the tip of his tongue, his body is afire with want. But he takes in the look on Yuuri’s face, heated and burning and worshipping, and suddenly he wants something else. He blinks. Heart so full it may burst, Viktor takes a moment to just breathe, chest already heaving. His husband, so loving, waits patiently and strokes his sides with warm hands.

“Yuuri,” Viktor finally breathes, reaching up to pull him closer, “make love to me.” Immediately, the fire between them simmers down to something just as hot but not as desperately intense. Yuuri considers him for a long moment before closing the small distance and kissing him once more, deep and languid, brimming with emotion. Maybe it's what he'd been wanting, too.

“Yeah?” Yuuri asks, brushing the fringe out of Viktor’s eyes and cupping his face with a gentle, loving hand.

Viktor turns his face into Yuuri’s palm and kisses it before peering up at Yuuri with a besotted smile. “Please.” He takes Yuuri’s hands and places them on his bare thighs, letting Yuuri feel the expanse of his freshly clean shaven skin, watches as Yuuri’s eyes darken again at the silky feel of them. Then, he splays his legs wider, inviting, hooking them around his husband’s waist and shuddering at the sensation as the soft underside of his knees glide over the expensive material of Yuuri’s pants. Warm hands hitch his legs higher, tighter, and caress over every supple inch. “Make love to me, Yuuri.”

And Yuuri _does_ , ardently and all-consuming in every motion.

~o~

Later, when Viktor’s wrung out on the duvet, boneless and overwhelmed and blissful, Yuuri slips away to draw them a bath. When he rejoins Viktor on the bed, he gathers him close and nuzzles into the sweat-darkened silvery hair. He sighs in obvious contentment. Viktor lets his eyes drift shut, heart warm, and curls into his husband’s chest, hand over his heart. “I love you,” he breathes, genuine in ways that he cannot name. “I love you.”

He feels Yuuri smile against his temple, feels his arms tighten their hold around him. “As I love you.” They hold fast to each other, snuggled close for a long while as the bath fills. Neither feel compelled to speak. Viktor, for his part, is content to count Yuuri’s heartbeats where they dance against his palm. Like this, held close and safe in Yuuri’s arms, there’s nothing else in the world he could ever want. He thinks he can withstand a thousand and one more separations if he can always have _this_. 

All too soon, their peace is broken by the sound of the Bathomatic bathtub shutting itself off with a little chirp. Yuuri snickers, breath warm where it rustles Viktor’s hair. “Our bath awaits, my love. Think you can walk yet?” 

Viktor cracks one eye open at the teasing tone, sees the smugness on Yuuri’s face, and decides to take advantage. “No,” he sighs dramatically, giggling to himself. “I _can’t_. Carry me, my strong, handsome, badass, ah---!” 

Yuuri cuts off his deliberate rambling by standing up abruptly, one arm around his shoulders and the other under his knees. When Viktor grins in triumph and opens his mouth to continue, Yuuri kisses him silent. He keeps their mouths locked together the whole time it takes to get to the bathroom. By the time he’s being sat on the rim of the freestanding bathtub, Viktor is lightheaded and his lips are beginning to swell. Sinking into the water, he catches Yuuri’s eyes and smiles besottedly. “Husband.”

Shaking his head, Yuuri sighs as if put upon. “You try me, Vitya.” The warmth in his eyes give him away.

“Only because you’re so good to me,” Viktor says earnestly as Yuuri joins him in the tub, front to his back. He rests back against Yuuri’s firm chest and laces their fingers together when Yuuri wraps his arms around him. Their wedding rings brush together in the water.

Yuuri presses a kiss to his shoulder, then rests his chin there. The sides of their faces touch. “You’re easy to be good to,” he divulges quietly. Viktor blames the steam from the bathwater for his wet eyes. It’s the fourth time tonight that his eyes have burned with emotion. He’s not usually like this. Something must be wrong with him. Not trusting himself to speak, he squeezes Yuuri’s hand tightly and hopes that it’s somewhat...adequate...for all that he doesn’t even know the words to say. He hopes Yuuri understands. Hopes he knows _just how much_ he loves him. For giving him this. For giving him the world. For giving him life _and_ love. It’s only because of him that Viktor knows what it means to be loved unconditionally, to be cherished.

They stay in the bath for a long time, time enough for their fingertips to wrinkle and prune. The water is only warm because the bathtub keeps it heated. Viktor drifts blissfully in contentment, unworried for now about what the morning will bring. He watches the night life go by in the city below with unseeing eyes, feeling detached from it all. His thoughts are here, albit drifting within the confines of the room. They have more of the world at their fingertips than most people can begin to imagine, but sometimes it’s nice to to have it feel so small. Sometimes, it’s nice to pretend there’s nothing more than just this, less, even. Life with a loving husband. Simple. Uncomplicated.

~o~

“Vitya,” Yuuri says quietly into the dark just as Viktor is drifting off to sleep lying on top of him, head pillowed on his chest. He blinks sluggishly and hums in question. “We’re going to stay at the house in Fukuoka for awhile. You need to be ready to go by the end of the week.”

His tone chases away the hazy fog of sleep in Viktor’s mind. Raising himself up on his elbows, he frowns down at Yuuri in concern. “Why?” Though it’s dark in the room and Viktor can barely make out his features, he can see that Yuuri is worried about something. “What’s wrong?”

Yuuri purses his lips and looks away for a second. It’s enough for Viktor to know that whatever it is, he can’t know about it. Not really. “Nothing you need to worry about,” Yuuri tells him vaguely. Vickor frowns more at the answer. Of course he’s going to worry. He always does whenever there’s something troubling Yuuri like this. “Just. It’s better to be out of Tokyo for a little while. Okay? ” There may come a day where Viktor becomes wholly unsatisfied with this kind of answer, but they’ve been here before, doing this same old dance and that day is not this day. It’s been such a long day and he has Yuuri for the night. He doesn’t want to ruin it now. After another moment of frowning in dissatisfaction and concern, he acquiesces to the circumstance and lays back down. 

“Okay.” Yuuri runs a hand down his back both in apology and gratitude. But whatever it is, it has him more worried than usual. Viktor has barely closed his eyes when Yuuri speaks again, more solemn than before.

“I brought you into this life,” he murmurs, his hand coming up to cradle the back of Viktor’s head. His touch is gentle and treasuring. This time, it’s Viktor who tenses against him. He breathes in through his nose and exhales slowly before finding the courage to ask.

“Is it that bad?” He’s almost afraid of the answer. Usually, whatever it is doesn’t affect Yuuri to the point of questioning Viktor’s place in his life. Viktor isn’t afraid of Yuuri not wanting him or forcing him to leave. He knows Yuuri Katsuki is too much of a selfish man in that regard. Just as he himself is in return. No matter what, he never questions their devotion to each other. But it’s a dangerous world they live in, underneath all the glamor, and someday their devotion may not be enough to stay together.

Yuuri sighs genuinely for the first time that night. “You’re the one thing in the world I refuse to lose.” It’s not the answer to Viktor’s question. It’s not even _an_ answer. Around them, the air becomes slightly more rife with tension. The worry is a tangible thing between them. Victor pushes himself up on his elbows again. 

“Yuuri,” he implores softly, “whatever it is, I am with you. I _chose_ this life. I _chose_ you. There’s no other life I wish to live. No other person I wish to live it _with_. I made a promise to always stand by you, and I intend to keep it.”

During his little speech, Yuuri reaches up to frame his face in his hands. “I know, love. I know,” he says while caressing Viktor’s face. “It’s why I do everything to keep you safe. I need you to be safe.”

“I’m fine,” Viktor whispers. “It’s you I worry about more.”

“Don’t.”

“That’s easier said than done. Even after all this time.” Yuuri brushes the fringe out of Viktor’s eyes and takes a long look at him. Then, it’s obvious that he forces himself to shake out of the mood that he’s in. He brings Viktor down for a kiss, and Viktor goes willingly, seeking comfort.

Their noses touch when they part. “Shh, love. I’m sorry I brought it up. Things are fine. Or they will be fine.” Viktor peers into Yuuri’s eyes and sees most of the worry dissipate behind shining affection. “Trust me, ok?”

Viktor smiles bravely, closes in for another kiss, then settles back down on Yuuri’s chest. He listens to the familiar rhythm of Yuuri's heart and forces himself to relax. His eyes flutter shut. “I do.”

~o~

When Viktor opens his eyes again, the stars have long since run off with the night. Morning. Too soon. Yuuri is already awake, though he hasn’t left the bed yet. He’s propped up on an elbow, looking down at Viktor with an adoring but slightly morose smile. “What?” Viktor asks, when he’s surfaced enough from sleep to do so, blinking heavily.

“Nothing,” Yuuri says, carding fingers gently through his hair and tracing them over his face as if memorizing the lines, “I just wanted to look at you.” 

Viktor wrinkles his nose slightly. Even he’s not vain enough to think he looks good in the early morning. “What is there to look at?” he teases lightly.

“Everything,” Yuuri replies, sure. Viktor flushes, quietly pleased. But he’s all too aware of what morning means for more than a fleeting warmth. He squeezes his eyes shut and moves to curl against Yuuri, hiding his face in the dark and comforting space in the hollow of Yuuri’s throat. Then he tries to work up the energy and courage to ask about the inevitable. In the end, he doesn’t have to. Yuuri pulls him closer and presses kisses into his hair, sighing. “We have to leave soon. I’ll see you off at the airport, okay?”

The only thing Viktor can do is nod in acknowledgement. He spends the rest of their short time in bed clinging wordlessly to his husband. Yuuri lets him, and returns the gesture by holding him tight. They perhaps stay longer than they should, neither wanting to get up and face the world just yet. But all good things come to an end, eventually, regardless of who or what or when.

Right before they drag themselves out of bed, Yuuri kisses him, slow and achingly sweet. “I’ll be home soon. We’ll go on vacation after all this, alright? We’ll take the yacht and sail for a while, out to where the sky meets the sea. Further, if you want. No one will bother us. I promise.” 

Viktor believes him.

~o~

It’s entirely too soon that Viktor finds himself sitting in the backseat of Yuuri’s matte-black Escala, dressed in a casual Calvin Klein outfit that Yuuri had delivered to the suite that morning. The world outside the tinted windows is already awake, people already starting to go about their daily business. Viktor watches them pass by with disinterest, holding tight to Yuuri’s hand. His husband is already on the phone with somebody, giving orders or voicing threats. Viktor doesn’t really pay attention.

They reach the airport in what seems like half the time it had taken to get to the hotel the night before. Kaito rolls the Escala to a stop in a hangar where another chartered LeerJet waits, gleaming and prepped for flight. With the partition pulled up between the front and back of the car, the sound of the car door opening and closing as Sasha gets out to sweep the plane barely registers in Viktor’s ears. That, or the fact that he’s too focused on the last few minutes with Yuuri to hear.

He turns to his husband, chest tight and eyes burning. Just because they’ve done this a hundred times doesn’t make it any easier. Yuuri lifts his hand where they’re still holding tight and kisses the ring on his finger before reeling him closer so they’re face to face with hardly a breath between them. Viktor swallows back the tears in his voice, knows Yuuri hates to see him cry. “I love you. Be safe, my Yuuri.” Yuuri bridges the gap between them and kisses him breathless.

“I will, love,” Yuuri promises, kissing him again. And again. Then, he tips his chin up with a finger to look him in the eye. _You can do this,_ Yuuri’s brown eyes implore. “Viktor. Wait for me to come home.”

“I always do,” Viktor says sincerely. They get in one last kiss, hard and lingering, before Sasha is at the door with a look of apology on his face. Viktor lets himself be ushered out of the car and onto the top step of the plane’s jet bridge. He turns at the last moment to look down at the Escala, to where he thinks Yuuri might be watching as the car is starting to pull away, and kisses the wedding ring on his finger. It’s something they both do, he knows. A good luck and farewell and _I’m with you_.

He doesn’t talk to Sasha or the stewardess on the flight back to Tokyo. Just eats the breakfast served to him on fine china plates and stares out of the window at the landscape below with unseeing eyes. When he gets home to the penthouse he’ll greet Makkachin with all the enthusiasm he can muster, hold her tight as she licks all the tears he didn’t cry off his face. After that, he’ll take a long shower and reply to invitations and requests for other _yakuza_ events, get booked for a few more campaigns. Later, when the sun dips below the reinforced windows surrounding the grand piano once more, he’ll lose himself to the melancholy of his beloved nocturnes yet again. And he’ll wait, with a simultaneously solemn and happy heart, blue eyes ever bright and crystalline, for Yuuri - his _wakagashira_ \- to come home.

~fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading and supporting this story!  
>  

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://www.nostalgia-in-starlight.tumblr.com)


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